thefirsttimeIfellinlovefeltlikemyfirsttimebehindthewheelofacar.it
wassomethingsocommon,Ihadseenitinmoviesandwhilewalkingdown
sidewalks,andIhadriddeninthebackseatwatchingmyparentstogetherfor
years. but once I was in the driver’s seat, face-to-face with another person,
nothing about it was familiar. I had to learn all the different gears, the
emergencybrake,therearviewmirror.IspedthroughredsIdidn’tevensee,
stoppedshortatyellows,stalledatgreens.mysteeringwaswobblyandtimid,
living scared of everyone else on the road. but eventually, I got more
comfortable.nolongerhittingthecurboneveryrightturn.realizingwhento
usethebrightsandwhentoslowdown.Icouldturnontheradio,rolldown
thewindows,andswitchtocruisecontrol.theissuewithgettingcomfortable,
though,is youbegin tosee the speed limit asa guideline.you beginto see
stopsignsassuggestions.that’swhatlovedoes.soIforgottoslowdownat
yields. used the backup camera instead of looking behind me. paid more
attentiontothepersoninthepassengerseatthantotheroadinfrontofus.
andIthoughtI’dbepreparedforthefirstcrash,Ireallydid—Imean,theysay
ithappenstoeveryoneeventually.thefilmsshowtheminslowmotionwith
orchestralmusicinthebackground,andeveryoneendsupokay.butInever
realized how painful airbags were until it was my head slamming into one.
andIneverimaginedhowtheseatbeltwoulddigintomyshoulder,tryingto
holdmeinplacewhenmybodywantedtobreakfree.Ineverthoughtofthe
skiddingtires,theshatteredglass,theshatteredhearts,theeeriesilenceafter
everythinghadcalmeddown.nothingpreparedmeforthat.
andonceyouhavethatfirstcrash,yes,youmoveon—youdriveagain,you
throwawaythelovelettersandmeetsomeonenew.butyouneverletyourself
get comfortable. I spend an extra few seconds at every stop sign now. my
hands shake as I hold the wheel. my foot hovers over the brake, expecting
somethingtogowrong.everytimeIpickupspeedgoingdownahill,allIcan
thinkofisthateeriesilence.smokerisingfromthehood,heartbeatingoutof
mychest,breathslowandshaky, trying not to cry.Iamconstantlystuckin
thatmoment.wonderingwhereeverythingwentwrong,wonderinghowIwas
too blind to see it coming, wondering why I didn’t slam on the brake fast
enoughorswerveoutofthewayintime.onesecondeverythingisfine,and
thenextI’mjustapieceofthewreckage.theonlywaytopreventacarcrash
istoneverdriveinthefirstplace.andIguessthat’swhyIwon’tletmyselffall
inloveagain.